


Things Neighbors Do

by ItsJina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsJina/pseuds/ItsJina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas puts his foot down and finally confronts Dean about his incredibly loud and annoying sexual activities. Nothing goes as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Neighbors Do

It’s been a month and Cas  _fucking hates his neighbor._

"These walls aren’t soundproof!" He shouts with one hand pounding incessantly at his bedroom wall.

Instead, his neighbor retaliates by returning the similar sound but at a faster pace with a woman’s loud gasping and moaning.

He rolls over and plops his face into his pillow, clenching his teeth and stomach. The woman’s ecstatic screams are getting louder if possible, shouting, “Dean, oh,  _oh Dean_!”

Cas flips around, pounds at the wall, “Fuck you Dean!” just as the woman moans one last time.

There’s a brief moment of static silence and he’s not sure whether he’s just losing it or he did actually hear that insufferable man chuckling through the wall, but it ignites a fury. He’s too mad to think it through and next thing he knows, he’s at Dean’s door, knocking angrily.

It takes a few minutes but eventually the door opens to the annoyingly gorgeous man looking  _quite_  indecent. Still gleaming with sweat, half-naked, with a small towel barely covering his private parts, Cas is even more pissed. Does everyone who apparently just had fantastic sex always look this good afterwards or  _what?_

Back to the matter on hand. “Winchester!”

"Novak!" Dean replies, less angrily, more enthusiastically, "You’ve finally decided to join us—"

"I am not here for a threesome!" Cas interrupts and jabs a finger at the naked chest. "You know why I’m here, asshole."

Dean sighs and pouts—no, it’s not cute,  _not at all_ —“C’mon Cas, a guy’s got needs.”

"And a student needs his sleep!" Cas retorts. "I’ve got two exams this week and two next week. Give me a break, Winchester."

Dean’s mouth opens. “Ah.”

"Now can you please stop, or at the very least, fuck quieter?"

"Have you tried listening to music like I told you before?"

"I can’t sleep with music on."

"Masturbation?"

Cas glares. “That’s none of your business, Winchester.”

"Would you stop with the ‘Winchester’ and just call me Dean?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because it annoys you."

Dean frowns, crossing his arms, and no, Cas is not watching those arms flex. Those grass green eyes—god, his sleep-deprived brain is on crack—stares at him intently for a brief moment before speaking suddenly, “You look stressed, Cas.”

"Well observed, Sherlock. Now, are you smart enough to figure out the cause?"

Dean chuckles, “Hey, I  _am_ smart, you know.”

"You don’t even study."

"Yeah I do."

"I have  _never_  seen you study.”

"Well then you should come over sometimes and watch me," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Clearly, there is another meaning to that and Cas rolls his eyes. “No.”

"Really though, you look stressed," Dean continues and grabs Cas’s shoulders, squeezing them, "You need to relieve some stress, dude. I can help with that."

Next thing he knows, he’s inside Dean’s apartment and is push up against the wall with expert lips pressing against his own. Somehow in the process, Dean has closed the door and encased Cas between his elbows, their hands interlaced.

He freezes because his brain is still trying to catch up to the current situation. It’s too surreal that the firm body of Dean Winchester, fucking Adonis in modern life, is press up against him, sinful lips searing hot against his’s. He could get lost in this.

But no, he’s reasonable, he’s logical, he demands an explanation.

Cas turns his head and Dean chases after, but he quickly says, “Wait. What are you  _doing_? What are  _we_  doing?”

"I’m helping you, Cas," Dean murmurs, lips catching Cas’s right before Cas turns away again.

"With what?" He asks breathlessly as Dean leaves a trail of kisses from his jaw to his neck. His traitorous body shifts closer to Dean even as his head dodges Dean.

"Sexual activity helps with stress, Cas, didn’t you learn that from sex ed?"

"W-what? No. I think."  It’s hard to think straight at the moment. 

"Well that’s the truth: masturbation, sex, etc. helps with stress, and you, sir," Dean looks up to him, lazy smug smile on his face, "Are stressing too much. Relax, okay? Relax and enjoy. I’ll help."

With finality, Dean tilts his head and deepens their kiss and  _fuck it all_  Dean is kissing him so he responds, hesitantly at first, until Dean whispers, “C’mon Cas, give it to me. You’re angry, tensed, pent up about the exams, about me. Let it go and give it all to me.”

_Fuck_  fuck so he does. He kisses hungrily, angrily, pulls his hands away and wraps arms around Dean’s neck, fingernails digging into Dean’s head, hands clumsily tugging at his hair, pulling in Dean to feel his skin all over him.

Dean’s breath hitches and he chuckles filthily as he presses harder into Cas, hands on Cas’s hip and ass. “Yeah, like that, Cas, just like that.”

"W-w-wait," Cas says, catching his breath and shivering as Dean licks at the throbbing vein in his neck, "Don’t you have somebody here? A girl…?"

"She’s asleep. Passed out as we climaxed."

Damn, how good is he—“I don’t want her to see—” Oh god, the embarrassment if this is someone he knows. If someone catches him clinging onto Dean like some horny teenager, he can’t—

But Dean looks at him, smirks, and whispers, “You better keep it down then,  _Novak_ ,” and bites his shoulder.

Cas gasps, a half-moan choked off as he tries to stop the incredibly embarrassing sound. “You’re not helping!”

Dean’s laughing and licking at the bite marks, his hands slipping under Cas’s shirt and lifting the thin material halfway to reveal Cas’s stomach. “Shhh, if you don’t want to be found, all you have to do is be quiet.”

And he tries, tries so hard, biting his lips, tugging harder on Dean’s hair, toes curling, and he tries to not make a noise. He recognizes the challenge from Dean and he is determined to win, but his body is uncooperative. He’s tempted every time Dean flicks over a hard nipple or those calloused fingers dig into his skin.

Their breaths are hot and heavy and short and it sounds so loud, Cas has no idea how the woman hasn’t woken up yet. His hands reaches over Dean’s shoulders, groping at his shoulder blades and spine, feeling incredibly aroused by the way the muscles are moving and flexing. So strong. His nails scratch against the skin and Dean moans quietly before kissing him with renew energy.

"So good, you’re doing so good, Cas," Dean encourages in between kisses. "Feels so good."

Cas never thought he’d be into someone who talked so much, but from Dean’s deep voice, it made his knees weak. He grinds against Dean, haggard breaths matching his rhythm, and all he can think about is how good it feels to be rubbing against this man and this man’s hands are too much, doing too much to him, wrecking him apart. His whole body burns with fire, buzz with pleasure. He’s faintly aware that towel around Dean’s waist is slowly slipping especially as Cas continues to thrust recklessly in abandon.

"Cas, can I…?" Dean asks, nipping Cas everywhere, from his lips to his jaw to his collarbone. Dean tugs at his shorts, one hand trembling over on his stomach, "Can I touch…?"

It’s strange that Dean asks this when his hands have been roaming everywhere else and Cas groans, “Yes, yes, yes.”

The confident air is back in Dean and his hand quickly slips beneath the shorts and grips onto Cas’s dick and—

He chokes, shaking all over as Dean strokes him fast and hard. He can’t keep quiet, not with this, not with a hand also rubbing his nipples, and a hot mouth licking his neck—

He throws his head back, gasping, grunting, the noises ripping from his chest, and he curses intelligibly.

Dean laughs, his breaths tickling against his wet skin, and levels eyes with him, “You haven’t said my name at all,  _Cas_. But you sure know Jesus’s father well.”

"Shut up."

But Dean bites on his lower lip and chuckles, “I’m gonna make you scream my name.”

Another challenge and Cas tries to glare but a swift movement of Dean’s hand and he falls apart. He concentrates everything instead into replacing Dean’s name with other words—“fuck, fuck oh god fuck”—but then—

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean murmurs into his skin, into his mouth, into his ears. “Cas, Cas.”

It sounds sincere, so painfully desperate as if the shorten version of his name was his salvation. It sounds affectionate. And Dean continues to whisper it everywhere his lips touches, as if worshipping Cas’s body with each word.

It’s so surprising and strange and a weird warm feeling wash over him. Without meaning to, his eyes close and his head thump against the wall, “ _Dean_ , Dean, oh fuck, Dean.”

And it feels so good, the heat overwhelming, his heart pounding so loud, blood rushing through his head and ears, pulsating in his veins, and he wants, he wants—

"Dean, Dean, can I also—" He grips the towel and he’s pretty sure he’s the only reason why it’s still in place. "Let me help you too."

Before Dean can even answer, Cas yanks the towel away and wraps his hand around the hard throbbing dick. He looks at it, red and purple at the tip, leaking pre-come, and glances at Dean.

_Fuck._

For how long has Dean been watching  at him with  _such_  a look, wet red lips open with blown dark green eyes?

He pumps Dean faster as Dean increases his speed and they’re panting, sharing the same air, breathing each other in and Cas  _can’t look away_. He’s fascinated, hypnotized, by how utterly beautiful Dean is.

A surge of desire overcomes him and he crashes their lips together. Dean responds just as eagerly and he knows he really shouldn’t kiss Dean any longer or he’ll become addicted to the way these lips move, to how Dean taste, and he needs to stop—

Dean’s hand disappears and he aches for a split second before realizing Dean is pulling his shirt, mumbling, “I want to feel you on me, Cas, I want you—”

He stops those words with a kiss and then pulls his shirt over his head and throws it somewhere before returning to those lips and finally pressing their bodies together, eliciting moans from them both.

"Fuck, fuck—" It’s Dean, or maybe him. Maybe both. All Cas knows that it’s rough and hot and insane with Dean’s hand back on his dick and the pleasure has tripled with their skins blazing and press on each other like magnets.

The heat is tight and his breaths are cutting short, “Dean, Dean,” He warns and Dean looks to him, bright and gorgeous and sweet.

Dean cups his cheek and whispers, “C’mon Cas,  _come for me_.”

He loses it, absolutely loses it with a long moan and head falling into the crook of Dean’s neck, holding for dear life as he comes all over Dean’s thighs. He quickly give Dean a few more tight strokes and the man grunts, freezes, before coming all over with shuddering breaths.

It’s quiet for a long moment as they come down from their high and Dean lowers his head onto Cas’s shoulder, leaving fluttering kisses on the skin. Cas doesn’t know what to do.

Dean reaches for his hands and interlace them, even though they’re sticky, and continues to leave soft kisses against Cas’s neck and jawline. He presses against Cas and envelops him and just  _kisses_.

"Dean?" Cas asks quietly, watching him with confusion. "What are you doing?"

He doesn’t stop until he looks at Cas face-to-face and he smiles, not cocky or anything, just a nice smile, and says, “Finishing up, that’s all. How do you feel?”

Well other than a strange blockage in his chest, he feels good. “Good.”

"Good," Dean nods, chuckling, "I’ll leave you with this then." He leans in and kisses him long and gentle.

When Cas is back in his apartment, he can still feel the touch on his lips, and well, everything else too. The ringing silence of his apartment is loud.

…He hates his neighbor so much.


End file.
